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[Vast Aire]
You better watch my blade, speak the truthI bring the pain like MethodBetter yet a wisdom tooth
You been miseducated, your style's outdated
You need to regroup, I'mma rap cyclone
I'm tired of clones
You better get ten feet away, one size ownFlip 'em the bird, flesh from the chrome
You got three feet of space and I'll crack ya dome
Six minutes, Vast Aire is on
And the party don't stop till we see daylight
That's about six a.m
When you falling out the bar with ya next of kin
Where should we begin
I got the yac, he brought the gin
Now I'm seeing intruders like the Gods of crimson
Style's so sick, you need tea with lemon

(Hook) 2x
This is that Lunch Room Rap that the b-boy's holla
It ain't about money cuz we all make dollars
Ain't about money cuz we all make dollars
Ain't about money; ain't about money

[Vast Aire]
Yes sir! I leave men with no air
I dare you to step up unprepared
My lecture's sharp like nades of spare
Shrink a few heads make 'em disappear
Sons of Joel, you better kneel before Zod
Before I show you the wrath of God
I brush my teeth with a lightning rod
I can pop-n-lock in my Izod
My favorite rapper was Todd Smith
Till his head got gassed and he lost his shit
If you step up to me you better step legiteI'll hold you to the light like you conterfeit
Huh-eh, cuz I'm R A W
The 'R' stands for 'Run' thru you (Sha-boo-ku)
The 'A' is 'Allah's' virtue
The 'W' is a 'Wide' circle
Don't make me hurt you

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